


Zombie Dance

by scarscarchurro



Series: Zombie AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Agender ford, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Everyone is Trans, M/M, Other, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Trans Fiddleford H. McGucket, Trans Grunkle Stan, Trans Rick Sanchez, Warnings May Change, its a zombie au there is going to be some violence death and gore mentioned at least once or twice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarscarchurro/pseuds/scarscarchurro
Summary: Three men wandered into an abandoned small city in search of shelter for the night. Shelter that they hoped would be clean of infected and easy to fortify; however, they would have to keep moving when the night was over.Cities were often lively places. Even in an infected world they were full of hordes or scattered groups of the not quite dead.





	1. You Again

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy there! a new au and a new... story from me! I'd love to thank my friend Fox for Editing this chapter.

Three men wandered into an abandoned small city in search of shelter for the night. Shelter that they hoped would be clean of infected and easy to fortify; however, they would have to keep moving when the night was over. 

Cities were often lively places. Even in an infected world they were full of hordes or scattered groups of the not quite dead. 

“For a city it sure is…” 

Stan and Ford both gave Fidds a look. 

“...dead.” Fidds finished with a small laugh. 

Stan adjusted his supply bag and sighed. “There is a building over there near the daycare.” He pointed at a single story brick building with a simple door and some boarded up windows. There was no mistaking the dead silhouette of a neon sign.

“Stanley that is a strip club,” said Ford putting their hand on their chest. 

Fidds gave a sigh. “It's better than nothing.” 

“There is a hospital close that we can raid for more supplies… though I wouldn't trust it.” Stanley inhaled and sighed. He shifted his body once more and craned his head up. Looking around. 

They made their way toward the building. 

Stanley headed to the back of the once bustling strip club. There was a ladder to the roof behind a dumpster. Stanley hesitated before continuing investigate the back of the building; he tested the sturdy back door to find it long locked with a padlock and heavy duty chains. Wrinkling his nose Stanley decided to join Ford and Fidds back at the front. 

“The back has some locked metal doors.” 

“Front door it is.”

Stanley cracked his knuckles and rammed himself into the door, making it a less than pleasing sound in the building. 

They waited a few moments fearing infected. When nothing occurred from it they walked in. 

“Strange. Locked from the inside,” said Fidds as he dropped his things and examined the door. The hinges were bent and the lock busted.

“We should work on that door we busted trying to get in here,” said Ford as they pulled out some tools. “Fiddleford, Would you be able to break some of the bar top so I can make a barricade for the door?” 

“O’ course darling.” Fidds grabbed a crowbar from his bag to go at the counter top of the bar.

Stanley glanced at the bar, finding it odd that there was open liquor on the counter. He set his bag down and armed himself with a hand pistol. 

Fiddleford swallowed and looked at Stan. “Whatcha pulling out the gun for, Stanley?”

“You said it yourself…” Stanley cautiously checked behind the bar, “Doors were locked from the inside,” looked under tables, before he sets his eyes on the restrooms.

Ford paused and grabbed a steel bat that was laying with their gear. The bat was wrapped in chain and barbed wire. They joined their brother near the restrooms. 

Fidds gulped. “Dang’nabbit.” He armed himself with a double barrel shotgun. 

“So… who’s here?” Stanley kicked in the men's restroom doors. It was a single stalled restroom. “Clear.” He hissed and turned to the Woman’s restroom.

“When was the last time Yall were in the ladies room?” Fidds asked leaning in closer. 

Stan could feel Fidds tremble against his back. “When we ran into that horde at that Gas station, because I had to take a piss.”

“Really? I haven't used one since before the sickness broke out.” Fidds shrugged.

“Fidds, by now I'd assume no one really cares about what restroom Stanley or Any of us use… plus. Not like we can use urinals.” Ford fixed their gaze on the door and inhaled. “When you're ready, Stanley.”

Stan shifted on his feet. “If you are living make this easier on all of us and come out.”

They focused on the restroom. Stan counted to three and kicked the door in. “Clear.” 

There was a gun click behind them. “Drop y-your fucking weapons slowly and no one gets fucked.”

“Kinky,” said Stanley with a wag of his brows and a small laugh toward Ford. 

Ford smacked themself in the face and sighed heavily. “The stage… no one checked the stage.”

“Weapons on the ground,” said the voice. 

Stanley stood tall as he turned around. “You ain't the first guy to have us at gunpoint, Princess.”

The stranger lowered their gun and growled. “Fuck it's you.” 

“God it's you.” Stan scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out. 

Ford turned around quickly to throw their eyeballs to Stan. “Stanley.” 

Fidds turned to face Stan and Ford. “Who are they?”

Stan shifted his body and set his hand gun aside. “Rick Sanchez.” 

“Stan Pines,” Rick lowered his weapon. 

“I'd like to know how you know this…” Ford glanced at Rick. “Person.” 

Rick scowled and jutted his hip out. “He/Him pronouns.” 

“Thank you.” Ford looked back at Stan and grabbed his shoulders. “How do you know this man?” 

“That is a long story, Sixer…” 

Ford let go of Stan giving him a look. Something that read this conversation wasn't over.

Fidds jolted up. “The door!” he pushed past Rick, seeing him as not much of a threat now, and started to rip off the existing door. 

Ford and Fidds decided to work quickly on crafting a fixed up door from the existing one and the hinges of one of the bathroom doors. 

The tension died down too quickly, it left Stan with stiff shoulders, and a vigilant eye on Rick.

They sat along the bar counter watching over the opening while the door was being crafted. 

Stanley gripped Fidds’s shotgun and glanced over at Rick every two seconds.

“How long you been here?” Fidds looked up from where he was securing the new hinges to the door. 

Rick had to examine the many empty bottles of booze along the building. “... about a day.” 

Stan scoffed and continued watching the opening. 

Rick looked at Stan. “You got a problem, Pines?” 

“A problem with you? Yeah.” Stan smirked and raised his gun a little. “But I can wait for after I'm sure we won't get houseguests.”

Rick shut up and sighed. It was a short lived silence as Rick said, “... I'd like to hear what you've been up to…” He quickly glanced at Stan. 

Stan’s lips twitched up into a small smirk. 

“And I'd like to know how you know my brother,” said Ford examining how to fix the lock, “we will see if any of our questions are answered!” 

Fidds widened his eyes, pressed his lips together, and shook his head. “Best to keep chatter light ya’ll.” 

Another short pause where the building was filled with only the sounds of work and metal clacking. 

“This place has been really dead,” said Rick while fiddling with the safety of his weapon, “it's unsettling…” 

Sets of eyes are on him and they gulped. “That is odd,” said Stan gripping his shotgun tight. 

“However odd it is, We have to stay the night.”  
Rick eyes snapped towards Ford, his body stiff he cocked and uncocked the gun quickly. 

Stan’s fingers twitched toward Rick’s knee and hovered there before darting back toward the shotgun. 

Ford fiddled with the lock and stepped away. “But we’d be out before the sun rises.” 

Rick’s shoulders lowered into a less guarded position. 

Fidds finished up swapping parts from here and there. “Door is ready to put up fellas.” 

Fidds walked over to Stan and gave him a smile. 

Stan perked up, hopped down from his perch, and handed the gun to Fidds. 

Stan then walks over to Ford, patted them on the back pointing to the door. 

Ford nodded and helped their brother lift the door up. 

When Ford and Stan secured and locked the door; Fidds took to talking to Rick. 

Ford went up onto the stage when they and Stan had finished; Stan followed.

With a sigh Ford's shoulders lowered as they breathed in. 

Stan squeezed Ford’s shoulder, Ford looked up, and they shared a look. Stan glanced quickly over at Rick who was listening to Fidds rambled on about starting a fire or going hunting while the light lasted. 

Ford frowned and gave another sigh. “You're going to go off alone with him aren't you?” 

“I just… need to talk to him.” Stan ran a hand through his hair and bit his lower lip. 

Ford gazed at Stan’s face. “Do what you need to do.”


	2. Trashy Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan takes Rick out to scavenge and talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! An update right? Haha. This chapter took some time to get out due to recovering from bronchitis and some other stuff. But I do hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> There is a small warning for Swearing in this chapter and some depiction's of blood? 
> 
> But seriously there is a lot of swearing

Their light was fading. It casted a shadow on Rick and Stan, who stood outside of the hospital, a broken plant infested building that towered over the town.

“If I didn't know any better I'd say you were going to kill me.” Rick pushed his way through the broken doors looking back at Stan when he crossed the threshold. 

Stan pulled his lips back and showed his teeth. With a gruff sharpness he said, “Still on the table.” He thought for a moment before ducking through the door; joining Rick on the other end. He had to take a deep breath. His face relaxed into a sad grin. “I didn't bring you here to put a bullet through your head.” 

Rick didn’t spare Stan much of a glance as he rolled his shoulders. “You want to talk,” said Rick cracking his shoulders.

Stan scowled and shoved Rick slightly.

Rick barely budged, but turned his attention onto Stanley.

Stan shook his head and shifted on his feet. “Yeah.” He pressed his lips together and shut his eyes for a brief moment. “Let's make this quick, Sanchez.” Eyes opened once again and fixed onto Rick.

Rick backed up a little and looked away. “What's the point? You want me to tell you you're right?” He gave a sharp laugh and fixed his feet solidly. “Quick enough for you?”

Stan sighed heavily and shoved past Rick. “Stubborn ass.”

Rick stomped his foot and screwed his eyes shut. With another roll of his shoulders he followed Stan. 

The interior of the hospital was open. A simple crumbling desk sat in front of a busted elevator, ripped open chairs lined the entrance pillars, a gift shop to the left, and winding hallways that seemed never ending. 

Stan stopped at a staircase that looked down to what remained of a cafeteria. 

The hospital cafeteria must have been lively back before the almost end of mankind. A piano resting against the very edge before you dip down into the lined up cafeteria tables. It must have been played by visitors wanting to see their dying or injured loved ones; however, this was no longer a lively place. The air hung stagnant with the never ending echoing of footsteps from deep in the depths of some unseen hallways and locked away patients who seemed to never die. 

It was unsettling to say the least.

Stan took a deep breath and glanced at Rick.

“Should have gone hunting.” Rick made his way down the stairs. “Surprising all this damage a couple of months can do huh?” 

Stan scowled and went down after him. “Fidds and Ford will do just fine hunting.” 

Rick opened his mouth, closed it, and looked around. 

Stan sighed, he pushed at some double doors he hoped lead into a kitchen, but the doors wouldn't open fully.

There had been some soft noises to escape the barely cracked open doors: some rattling chains and the tell tale groans of those not quite living locked inside

Stan gulped. He stopped pushing the doors, slowly shut the crack he had opened, and then looked to Rick. “Well…A quiet city and a noisy hospital.” He smiled a little. It didn’t reach higher than a simple twitch of the corners. 

Rick gave a hesitant grin. “It looks like there is a hall off to the side there.” Rick pointed past the last few tables. “Maybe some garbage cans… vending machines.”

Stan raised a brow. 

Rick took in a deep breath. “There could be salty snacks.”

“No I understand,” said Stan as he looked off at where the open area split off into a hall. He rubbed a spot on his right hand and bit his lower lip.

Rick glanced quickly at the display of nervousness, then headed past the many tables.

Stan took a deep breath and started after Rick. He released his hand and shook his arms. “Rick?” 

Rick paused his advances to the doorway and turned to study Stan. “Yeah?” 

“You're a better shot than I am.” Stan pushed past him and focused on Rick for a short-lived smile. “Stay alert and shoot anything that comes for us… if it does.” 

Rick swallowed hard and fished his gun from his waistband. He peered at the gun for a brief pause, clutching it in his hand, and glanced at Stan. “Feels like old times.”

Stan gave a heavy hearted laugh. “Yeah… but something is missing.”

Rick frowned and bit his lower lip. “What?” He wanted to forget.

“You made it clear you were done talking about it.” Stan scowled, turned his head forward, and started advancing toward the hall. 

Rick didn’t speak again. He followed and only halted when Stan’s strides decreased to a full stop.

They stood a few tiles before the contents of the ninety-degree hall could be revealed.

Stan held his body straight and turned to Rick with harsh eyes and a thin frown. “I'm… angry and bitter…” 

“So am I,” said Rick as he walked the rest of the way and turned. The blood drained from his face, his lips drooped, and his body became rigid.

“What is it?” Stan shifted forward before stepping back for a few moments. He took a breath, clenched his fingers, and walked closer to Rick. 

Stan turned his head and pressed his lips together.

The hall stretched many ways, but straight a head there were glass door vending machines filled with salty potato chips and many variety of candy. Not really anything of sustenance, but a nice treat in the given situation. There was a door on the far end to the left of them that turned another ninety degrees to the right that had a sign that said ‘Stairs’. 

What shook Rick was the presence of splattered tiles that were mostly rusty with little white showing through and the pungent smell of rot.

Stan took a deep breath, advanced onto the vending machines with his head high, and arms at his side. Like he has done this before.

Rick pressed his lips together and shifted his gun. Of course they see it every day. He sees it everyday… but the sight still picks at his brain. “You still have magic fingers?” He kept an eye on the far door.

Stan didn't answer and set his bag down. 

“Stan?” Rick cocked his gun on and off. 

A consicent CLICK; CLICK; CLICK;

Stan unzipped his bag and pulled out a crow bar. 

CLICK

Stan groaned and glanced up at Rick. “Either keep the safety on or off, Rick.” 

Rick looked at Stan, taking his eyes off the door, and paused his thumb as it pulled the safety back. CLICK. “...You aren't going to use the crowbar are you?” 

“Which,” Stan held the crowbar in his hand, “is why you are shooting, Rick.” he stood up and takes a deep breath. “I'm going to be making… a lot of noise.” 

Rick groaned and rolled his eyes. “There is an easier way.” 

Stan smirked and grabbed a hammer from his bag as well. He then moved over to the machine and admired Rick from over his shoulder. “They aren't as fun.” 

“You could unplug it first,” said Rick with a head motion and a stiff show of teeth. “and climb on top of it.”

Stan continued to stare at Rick. “Rick.” 

“Even pick the lock like we used to.” Rick drew his unibrow down. “I have a lock picking--”

Stan stared hard at Rick and grit his teeth. “-Rick shut up.” 

Rick raised his brow and lowered his shoulders. Then he heard the neverending echoing of footsteps. He had to laugh a little. Zombies making rounds. Rick looked to Stan and smiled softly. “Okay quick and loud I get it.”

Stan nodded and gave a weak smile. “Logical doesn't work in this world, Sanchez…” he climbed the vending machine. “This should only take three minutes.”

“I still say unplug it,” said Rick keeping an eyes locked on the open Cafeteria. 

Stan rolled his eyes and hammered the crowbar into the gap. “You'd need power for an alarm to work.”

Rick shook his head and made a noise between clearing one's throat and snorting. 

Stan rolled his eyes and cracked open the machine. Being greeted with the shrill noise of an alarm. “Fuck.”


	3. Ford's Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fidds and Ford are out hunting and have a small Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to sweat out the cliff hanger of the last Chapter. This chapter is short about 400 or so words. I'd call it a filler because that is what it is while I scramble about. I hope everyone had nice holidays! and hope 2018 brings some form of good fortune and joy. 
> 
> If anything the New year is a brand new start to everything! a Monday and a Full Moon! Possibly a perfect time to charge any crystals if you do that sort of thing.

An arrow flew through the air and pierced the hide of their dinner. “The poor critter didn’t stand a chance.” Fidds lowered the crossbow with a sigh and walked carefully over to where the rabbit had dropped dead. 

Ford stood stagnant looking off into the direction of the city and wondered if they could make it back before nightfall. A deeper thought in their mind hoped their brother would be alive and safe.They hoped to find his stupid smiling face grinning over some haul of trashy snacks. 

“Darlin’,” said Fidds. He held up the rabbit with a quirked grin. 

Ford swallowed and opened the bag they had brought for hunting.

Fidds gave them a big grin and put the rabbit in the bag. “I think we have enough fur the four of us.” 

Ford released a sigh and stared into the open bag before shutting it. 

Fidds frowned and nudged them. “Yer worrying fur Stanley again?” 

“That city is too quiet… and Hospitals have never been the smartest of places to go for a supply run.” Ford started toward the city Fidds in toe. “For two people.”

Fidds ran a hand in his hair, with a hop in his step, and a sigh weighing heavy in his throat. “Yer, brother has never taken danger lyin’ down.”

Ford’s eyes hardened and they gripped the bag tight. “He has been doing a good job at staying safe. I’m scared whoever this Rick guy is will just… Make him irrational. “

“Stanley has always been someone to run off with others, Ford.” Fidds frowned. “He has ran off with this guy befur.” He looked at Ford and then around the area. “From what I’ve learned in a short time of having them in the same room. They have unresolved issues. It might take an apocalypse and a couple hundred undead to get them to resolve those issues.”

Ford shook their head. “I don’t know.” 

Fidds smiled and nudged Ford again. “It took a Zombie apocalypse for us to get over our issue.” he gave Ford a small kiss on the cheek.

“Our issue was not a secret!” Ford blushed and looked away from Fidds. “Stanley will not tell me who this Rick is. Won’t tell me how he knows Rick. Won’t tell me how they met. What they were? It's frustrating.” 

Fidds sighed and wrapped his arm around Ford’s shoulders. “Yer brother has secrets he isn't ready to share yet.” 

Ford groaned. 

Fidds slipped away from Ford and walked backwards for a couple of feet. “Jus’ like you do, Darlin’ or have you told Stanley about your muse?” Fidds raised a brow. “About what we were doing in Gravity Falls?”

Ford gulped and shook their head. “Let’s just get back before we lose this light.”

“Thought so.” Fidds gave a small grin, turned around, and picked up his pace. “Stanley will be fine.”


	4. That was Easy is What People Say Just Before Things Get Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Stan reminisce about the past a small bit and talk about how they can get out of the Hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I haven't forgotten about this story! I've actually been throwing myself into writing because we had to put my oldest cat down we had her for 17 years... Not that you really need to know that! but That is just... where I'm at right now. Also I've been really into Star Trek recently, but I'm still working on this story along with all the other crap I have. 
> 
> Hope you Enjoy this Chapter. 
> 
> Warning: Swearing. Depictions of dead bodies?

“Hurry up, Pines!” Rick’s voice echoed down the stairwell.

Stan’s voice called back, “Just shut up and run!” 

Rick didn’t know how long they had been climbing and climbing these stairs. It had been smart of Stan to point out the staircase sign near the vending machines; it had made for a quick get away. “Door over here!” Rick shouted, he turned around and clutched his chest. “Fuck. You been behind me this entire time?” 

“You gotta shut the hell up. Really.” Stan ran a hand in his hair, there was sweat that dripped down his face as he took in deep breaths.

“Yeah, whatever.” Rick shrugged, bit his lip, and turned back around facing the door. 

Stan let out a breath. 

Rick didn’t need to look behind him to know Stan had rolled his eyes. “We can find another stairwell and go back down.”

“Ford ‘s going to kill me,” panted Stan.

“I’ll get you back to that Nerd in no time.” Rick smiled as the door opened. His smile turned into a deep set frown. 

Stan squeezed next to him and he released a breath. “Fuck, Rick.” 

Once this hall might have been pristine and a huge hit as it was lined with windows to the outdoor area below. Now it was lined with rusted black blood and the surely dead. “Someone has been here before.” Stan walked forward and knelled down in front of a body. 

The person had been slumped over reaching out for someone. An arrow lodged in their skull.

Rick gulped and put one foot in front of the other. He shut the door soundlessly and took in a deep breath. 

Stan looked over at Rick and sighed. “I’m pretty sure they have been like this for a long time.” 

Rick didn’t understand much of how Stan was able to roll the corpse over without vomiting. 

“You sure they’re all dead?” Rick asked walking to look out the window and chew on his lower lip. He rubbed his hands against his arms and took in some deep breaths. He hears Stan stand up, and he glanced over at the other man. 

Stan walked over to the window and stood next to Rick with an unreadable expression. “Shot through the head.” there was something in his voice that made Rick blink. 

“Are you going to throw up?” 

Stan curled his fingers into a fist and looked to Rick. “I might.” his knuckles are white against the window pane.

Rick scooted to the side a few feet and cleared his throat. “Well…”

“I’m not going to in front of you.” the hollow sound bubbled up from Stan’s gut into the air.

Rick frowned in remembrance of a time when Stan would have and he took in a deep breath. He wasn't going to go back there. Not in this moment. “We should find another way down.” 

A look over at Stan made him second guess his words. Stan had a thick brow raised and a cold smirk. “You crazy?” 

“Slightly, yeah.” Rick shifted and looked out the window. Their light wouldn't last much longer. He wondered if the others had made it back. Then he frowned. He looked back over at Stan.

Stan was chewing his nails as he leaned into the window. Half of his face pressed against the glass.

Rick shifted his gaze back down to the outdoor area and sighed. “Come on. Dark or light I'm getting you back.” He pushed off the window and placed his hands on his hips. 

Stan rolled his eyes and pushed off the window. “You are crazy.” Rick eyed Stan up and down as he rolled his shoulders. Turned his back to Rick. “Zombies get feisty when the sun goes down,” strolled his way past the corpses, “We could find a nurses station and hide out there.” Then stood tall and looked back with a raised brow. A gesture to follow along.

Rick frowned willed his legs to carry him past the bodies. “Crazy flocks together.” kept his eyes on Stan. “You're out of your mind if we are staying in this dodgy hospital.” He gave a sharp laugh and stood to the side. A hand rested on his hip as he cocked it to the side. “What would you rather do?”

Stan’s eyes never wavered from Rick’s face. “I’d rather get out of here.” 

Rick smirked. “Exactly.” he shifted his long body and looked ahead of them on the walls. There were plaques with rough white outlines of room numbers, which direction the elevator was in, and Rick frowned. What ward were they in? What kind of patients did they have on this floor? 

“If we can pry the elevators open,” Stan’s voice startled him for point one of a second, “We could shimmy down.” 

“If the vending machines had power though shouldn’t the elevators?” asked Rick. He looked to Stan and frowned. 

Stan shrugged. “Depends on who rewired the place and if they ever got out.”

Rick nodded and sighed. “There might be more stairs near the elevators?” 

Stan snapped his fingers and nodded. “True, but the elevators were in the middle of the lobby, behind the desk, remember?” 

Rick looked away and rolled his eyes. “My visual memory isn’t the best, Staniel.” He smirked and laughed a little. 

Stan had gone quiet. Rick slid his eyes shut and knew he shouldn’t look over at the other. “Don’t call me that.” 

Rick’s heart squeezed and he nodded. “I understand.” he slid his eyes open and sighed. “Let’s find the stairs.” he walked in a direction not bothering to see if Stanley would follow. The footsteps behind him were enough to indicate the other was following.   
Rick hoped one of them was focusing on the signs they passed. Hoped Stan was focused enough. A thought crossed his mind. She would have been focused. She would be upset that Stan and Rick were fighting. Would have told them they are being idiots. 

“You’re thinking about her,” said Stan’s voice. Rick turned to him and then looked away. “She’d be pissed at us.”

I’m pissed at us, thought Rick. He chose that moment to look up at the walls and stopped. “Stairs.” he pointed at the plaque and looked to Stan. 

“I’d say this was easy,” said Stan with a shrug, “but when people say that things often get-” 

There was a deep sound. Something like a cat being strung up by its tail, if that cat were in a gutter, and a flood of dead. “Well fuck you,” growled Rick as he grabbed Stan’s wrist and pulled him down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked my friend "How hated do you think I'll be if I leave Stan and Rick in danger on another cliff hanger?" well not so much asked as stated "Hey I'm putting Stan and Rick on another cliff hanger." They encouraged it.


	5. Just another Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Rick have to spend the night at the Hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some swearing and Character deaths mentioned?
> 
> Enjoy the Chapter!

Stan had to say it. Had to. Just compelled to say the three worst words you could ever say in an apocalypse. “Try that door! Try that door!” he shouted over the roar of undead. They had been trying doors and running for who knows how long, Ford would probably know, the stupid nerd. 

Rick growled as he tried the knob. It had give and flew open. Stan didn’t have time to look inside as Rick shoved them both into the… It smelled like a janitor’s closet. When Rick slammed the door shut they were plunged into darkness. 

Stan breathed heavy, had landed against a possible shelving unit in the room.

There was then a click as Rick locked the door. “I’m going to turn the light on,” warned Rick before the room was suddenly brightened by the only light bulb. He didn’t seem too shocked that it worked. 

The room was what Stan expected. A Janitorial closet. Much bigger than what he had first imagined, all that appeared to be left were some paper towels, bare shelving units, and a dusty desk shoved up against one wall.

It appeared someone else had hidden here not long ago for the dust was thinner in a few spots. “Well… staying the night,” said Stan as he hopped up on the desk and hefted his supply bag up. 

Rick growled lowly and slammed himself against the desk before sitting on top of it. He pulled his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.

Stan sighed heavily and raised a brow. “I know it's upsetting.” 

“Everything is upsetting,” grumbled Rick, without looking up. 

Stan opened up his bag and pushed it at Rick with a raised brow. “Interesting to see the place has electricity,” he stared at the light and heaved a sigh. 

He heard ruffling of wrappers and knew Rick was pulling something from the bag. “At least there is some light,” growled the other. 

Stan sighed heavily and leaned his body back. “Where you been, Rick?” he found himself asking as he stared at the light. They might as well talk if they were in this situation. 

Rick didn’t answer. 

Stan looked over at him to find the blue haired man shoving a granola bar in his maw. “You might as well talk to me if we are going to be stuck here for the night,” said Stan, with a grind of his jaw. 

No answer again, just the crunching of Rick eating.

Stan shook his head and pulled his knees up onto the desk. “Well fuck you,” growled Stan. 

After the crunching subsided they were silent. Time ticked by slowly with it ticked away Stan’s patience to stay still. He stood from the desk, riffled through the bag, pulled out a pencil, and a bound book. Then he turned to the floor and lied in the space on his stomach.

Silence fell once more aside from the scratching of the pencil against the paper. 

“You still draw?” the noise of Rick’s voice startled him only a little bit. 

Stan sighed and he shifted his body when his arms started to tremble and shake. He questioned not answering Rick like Rick hadn’t answered him. He was that petty and he would do it. Instead he heaved a sigh and said, “Yeah. It keeps me occupied.” Especially when listening to Fidds and Ford do equations to stay busy. “Where you been, Rick?” Stan asked again because he wanted an answer. Wanted to know more than anything where Rick had gone after he dropped Stan off in Gravity Falls. 

Rick was silent for a time, and Stan was sure the other wasn’t going to answer. Why would he? Stan was the one who had demanded to go to Gravity Falls, because he couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t look the other way. “Went to Cali,” said Rick after a beat. “Wasn’t any better out that way.” 

Stan smirked a little to himself and chuckled. “Cali, god, you and your west coast.” Stan flopped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. 

He felt Rick slide down next to him and the other released a breath. “Cali was terrible, but… she wanted to go there in the end.” 

Stan found himself flipping over to his side and studying Rick’s face. The vacant look in his eyes as he remembered and re-lived. At least Stan thought this was Rick living through the memory of her again. 

“You were right, Staniel.” Those words brought no joy to Stan. Brought nothing to his pride. 

Stan released a sigh that kicked up more dust and brushed it onto Rick’s cheek. “I’ve dreamed of the day you would say that,” said Stan with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Rick’s head turned to face Stan, those eyes were glossy, and that mouth was set in a frown. “I can put aside some of my pride,” rasped Rick. He pushed at Stan before sitting up, and he reached for something.

Then the bag was shoved in Stan’s face. 

“You, eat something, then we can sleep or something,” grumbled Rick as he climbed back up onto the desk and spreaded himself out on top of it. 

Stan scoffed and sat up. “Where else have you been?” asked Stan as he shoved his hands in his bag to find something of value, more granola bars, some chips, and some canned fruits from the town Stan had last stayed.

“Went to the midwest after Cali,” said Rick, without moving a muscle. 

Stan chose a granola bar and ripped it open. He rolled his eyes. The midwest was a broad spectrum from Iowa to Ohio. “Midwest is a large space, Rick,” said Stan, with a smirk and a bite of granola. “Where in the midwest?” 

Rick groaned and did roll his shoulders and body. When Stan looked up at the other Rick glared down and propped himself up on his elbows. “Does it matter? Midwest was the midwest.” 

Stan scoffed. “It matters,” he punctuated his sentence with another bite of granola. “Next thing you know is you’re gonna say people from the midwest all have that accent.” 

“Don’t they?” asked Rick, with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. 

Stan pressed his lips together. “They don’t.” He rolled his eyes and finished off the granola bar with a heavy sigh. 

It grew silent again, just Rick shifting back down onto the desk, and Stan rose from the floor to turn out the light. 

After the light clicked off he sank back down onto the floor. 

He was almost asleep when Rick said, “I went to New Jersey.” A shift and a pause, “Glass Shard beach right?”

Stan’s heart hammered in his chest and he swallowed thickly. God what did Glass Shard Beach look like now? 

“Pines’s Pawn Shop?” Rick was still talking and Stan felt that granola bar roll in his stomach. 

Rick had gone there? 

Stan felt himself rise into a sitting position his body shook. “Yeah, Sanchez,” said Stan, his voice foreign and quiet. Yet loud in his own ears as his head swam. 

“It was boarded up, Staniel,” said Rick, softly and with a heavy sigh. “I had to break a window to even get in. The place looked like it’d been through a blender. Hell there was so much blood.” 

Stan’s stomach cramped and he felt like he was going to throw up. He let out a choked noise, and said, “Shut up, Rick.” 

To amazement Rick actually shut up. 

Thank God, thought Stan as he flopped back down onto the floor with a sharp breath. “Go to fucking sleep.”

To even more amazement. Rick did. 

Stan laid there in the darkness on the dusty floor, curled up on himself, and cried. It started off quietly because Rick was there, then he sobbed because FUCK Rick, and fuck the undead bullshit they had to deal with. 

… 

Whatever time they decided to roll out of the closet was pretty early in the morning, soft light was leaking through the windows, and it was just dead silent. Like the rest of the city.

Stan hadn’t slept a wink. He was tired in more ways than one. He didn’t speak to Rick, which was fine because Rick didn’t talk back. The only words that passed through Stan’s lips were clipped directions to the nearest stairwell, which was locked, but Stan just shoved his shoulder against the door, kicked, threw a chair at the handle when his shoulders, and limbs hurt just a little too much. 

Rick said nothing as Stan threw open the door and kicked up a dust cloud. 

Said nothing as they took the steps down. 

Rick said, “I’m sorry.” When they found their way back to the lobby. 

Stan had whipped around with stinging eyes and pain jolting his body. He looked at Rick really took the time to look at the man he once knew. All that high posture was crumpled into a slouch, a vacant stare, a rub of his elbow, and it just made Rick look so small. The dark circles made him look so tired and the frown just made Stan’s stomach cramp and roll. 

“I’m sorry,” said Rick once again, he didn’t avert his eyes from Stan, and he looked genuinely apologetic. 

It made it so hard to stay pissed at the guy. It made it so hard for Stan’s petty nature to dig its nails in. Stan released a breath. He put his hands to the side and hoped his words dug in just enough, “You’re just sorry I’m not talking to you again.” and Rick winced back. “I don’t care that my Pops bit the dust. I always knew he’d never fare well in any no win scenario,” that was true. Stan could care less about Filbrik Pines, would have done it himself if his Pops had been a member of the undead. He could care less about the Pawn shop and the memories of that building. “It’s still my family, Rick.” he gave a hollow laugh. “Somehow I’m gonna have to tell Sixer that, Somehow I’m gonna have to tell them that we aren’t going back to Glass Shard.”

He saw Rick take in a deep breath. “What do you want from me?” asked Rick with a step backwards and a toss of his arms up. “What do you want me to do, Staniel?” 

Stan took in a deep breath. “I don’t know, Rick, what do you think is appropriate?” He motioned towards Rick and put a hand on his hip. “What do you think people who lose a loved one want? Or need?” 

Rick’s shoulders fell and he took in another deep breath. “Would that even do anything?” 

“I’d be comforted,” said Stan with both of his hands on his hips now and his eyes narrowed at Rick. 

Rick released a heavy sigh and wrapped his arms around Stan in a limp hug. “This is so weird, I don’t think we have ever hugged,” said Rick while Stan wrapped his arms around the lith man. Rick’s hold somehow grew tighter like he has been needing one of these for years. 

A genuine warm fucking hug. Stan sighed and pulled back. “So we should get out of this hospital, doors are right there.” He poked his thumb out at the front doors. 

Rick nodded and they headed for the front doors. “Wonder how Fiddleford and your sibling faired,” said Rick. 

Stan felt his heart squeeze momentarily and he smiled.


End file.
